


Who? You.

by JoMouse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Aphasia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Stuttering, stuttering liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMouse/pseuds/JoMouse
Summary: Liam was in a car accident as a child that killed his father.He was left with permanent damage that affected his entire life, but finally, years later, he seeks out help on a helpline through his university.





	Who? You.

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely different than anything I've ever written before and I sincerely hope I have written Liam's health issues with enough sensitivity so as not to offend anyone.
> 
> Big thanks to both of my betas who are the best for putting up with me as I stressed over finishing this monster at the last minute. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this - please leave kudos and comments, they are my life.
> 
> I don't own anyone or anything in this story (if I did, I'd be a lot more comfortable than I am now).
> 
> Please don't repost this story anywhere (especially Good Reads), but feel free to share the link if you think others should read this.
> 
> 08/10/2018: Okay, now that I'm revealed as my author, let me say thank you to Cristina and Jenn for being my cheerleaders and also include:
> 
> Don't know 'em. Don't own 'em. Don't show 'em.
> 
> xx-Joey

Liam stared at the ad that had appeared in the middle of his screen. “Who you gonna call?” He laughed as the  _ Ghostbusters  _ theme song began playing through his head. As the ad played, he realized it wasn’t for a new film, but for a helpline instead. The sound was off because he’d forgotten his headphones at home, but from what he could figure out, it looked like it was one of those helplines were you could call, text, or even chat online. 

Chewing his lower lip, he looked around the coffee shop, even though it was only himself and the barista who was leaning on the counter doodling on a napkin. Taking out his phone, he opened his notes to carefully enter all of the information. Once he was satisfied he’d done it correctly, he closed the app, locked his phone and shoved it deep into his pocket.

It wasn’t that Liam thought he needed to contact the helpline, but he thought back to his last conversation with his mum when he’d admitted he hadn’t been sleeping well. She’d asked if it was because of the nightmares and he’d never been particularly good at lying to her, even over the phone. She’d gently suggested he talk to someone, but he’d refused, as he’d always done because the one time he’d tried talking to a counselor in school hadn’t turned out very well.

His mum’s disappointment had hovered in the back of his mind since that phone call and seeing that ad had brought it to the forefront; he was hoping taking down the info would be enough to quiet her voice. He gave a yawn as the alarm on his phone sounded, alerting him that it was now five a.m. and he should probably head back to his room to get cleaned up for classes. He had time, but he knew if he stayed much later, the coffee shop would begin filling up and he prefered it when it was quiet. He waved at the barista who nodded in response, his lids heavy; the boy probably got as little sleep as Liam did.

Liam’s roommate was awake when he got there. Louis glanced up over the paper he was reading before nodding towards the still warm tea kettle on the counter. Liam grunted his thanks and filled the Batman mug that Louis had already filled with sugar, tea bag hanging off the side. After Liam settled at the table, he was surprised to see Louis slide a flyer across the table towards him. He picked it up and choked on his sip of coffee when he saw the logo for the helpline and the words, “Who you gonna call?” across the top of it. 

“W...w-hat’s this?” he asked after putting it facedown on the table.

Louis shrugged his shoulder before speaking, his voice still sleep-rough. “Heard your conversation with your mum the other night. Saw this hanging up outside my Experimental Psychology class and figured it might come in handy.” He watched Liam play with the edges of the paper. “No pressure, mate. Just noticed there’s a texting option.”

He knew Louis meant well, the boy had been one of his best friends for as long as he could remember. He was one of the only ones that had stuck around after the accident and the only one who never rushed or pressured Liam. He was also the only reason Liam’s mum let him go so far away for school; without Louis, he’d probably still be living at home and taking night classes while working at a factory.

“Thanks, Lou,” he whispered, glad when his friend just nodded and rose to his feet, grabbing his rucksack and heading off to class. Liam kept staring at the paper while he finished his tea. He pulled his phone out and double-checked his notes against the flyer. Satisfied they matched, he gently tore the flyer into stripes and droped them into the rubbish bin. He rinsed out the mug, singing the  _ Ghostbusters _ theme under his breath.

His classes were full of individual work that day, saving Liam from having to interact much with his classmates, although after three years in the sound engineering program, most of the other students were used to his stilted speech and didn’t hassle him. There were those who still jumped in to finish his sentences if he was struggling for too long and he knew they meant no harm, but it just frustrated and embarrassed him more.

He got back to his room a little after five, balancing a pizza and some beer for Louis. He smiled when he found Louis sitting on the floor leaning against the sofa and shouting at the television as he and their other friend from home, Niall, played a video game that seemed to require a lot of swearing on Louis’ behalf. Liam broke into full laughter, startling both of them when he realized they were playing MarioKart.

“Liam!” Niall shouted. “You brought pizza!” He opened his mouth, turning his face slightly towards Liam while still playing the game. Liam opened the box and pulled out a slice, sliding it into Niall’s open mouth before tossing a beer to Louis’ outstretched hand. 

After a few minutes, they paused the game and concentrated on the food. Liam ate one piece of pizza and curled up with  _ The Lord of the Flies. _ Niall was in the middle of a story about one of the guys in the International Foods Club he had joined when Liam dozed off.

_ The radio was too loud and he was yelling at his father to turn down his ‘stupid music’, but it just kept getting louder and louder as his father ignored him. He tried to reach for him, to hit him to get his attention, but he couldn’t reach; the seatbelt was too tight. Frustrated, he undid the belt, he scooted forward and smacked his father’s shoulder. _

_ His head jerked around to Liam, shouting to get back in his belt, but it wasn’t his father anymore, it never was. This time it was Louis shouting at him in his father’s voice. He scrambled to get back in the seat as the car lit up with oncoming headlights and he yelled at Louis to watch the road. Before Louis could turn back and before Liam could strap in, the world spun around them and Liam’s head filled with the sound of screeching metal and shattering glass as he bounced around the interior of the car. _

Liam sat up gasping. “Lou!” It took him a couple of breaths to realize he was on his sofa and Louis was sitting next to him, a hand on his arm. Niall entered the room with a glass of water, wrapping Liam’s hand around it silently. This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up from a nightmare of the accident that had killed his father and left Liam damaged. His friends knew how to handle it; they didn’t talk about it, just comforted Liam long enough to get his breathing under control and let him run away.

Liam drank the water quickly, setting the glass down on the coffee table. Standing, he grabbed his laptop and rucksack and headed towards the door, stopping and hurrying back to hug Louis quickly before running out. “The most sleep he’s gotten all week,” he heard Louis say as the door closed behind him.

It was earlier than he usually went to the coffee shop, so Liam headed to the library instead. There were private study rooms students could use for an hour at a time and if Jade was working the front desk, she usually let him stay for longer. His face fell when he entered and saw a line at the circulation desk. Glancing towards the study rooms, he saw all the doors were closed. He moved to get in the line when someone touched his arm, making him jump.

“Sorry, Liam,” Jade said. She was holding a stack of books, but was missing her library smock which mean she wasn’t working. He noticed the pin of the  _ Ghostbusters _ logo on the front of her sweater and the song started on repeat in his head; he just could not escape the damn song.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “Do y...y-ou know if there are any rooms?”

She shook her head, a slight frown on her face. “I tried to get one myself, but it’s a busy week. Liam groaned as he remembered that the next week were the big tests that happened halfway through the year. He wanted to ask Jade what the word was because he couldn’t think of it, but he was too embarrassed. “Midterms suck,” she said. That was the word he’d been looking for.

“D...d-efinitely,” he agreed, looking towards the doors. “I’m g...g-onna...I’m g...g...see y...y-ou.”

Jade looked disappointed, but she planted a smile on her face as she squeezed his arm. “I’ll text you if there’s any rooms open next week.”

Liam nodded as he pulled away from her and headed towards the door. He checked his watch as he stepped outside, realizing it was still early, but he didn’t want to go back to the flat, so he headed towards the coffee shop. He usually avoided the shop before ten p.m. because that seemed to be when it emptied out, but he hoped that maybe with midterms coming up that maybe everyone would be at the library or their rooms studying.

The bell above the door jangled, but he could barely hear it over the noise inside. He hesitated as he took in the crowded interior, the lights dimmed as a girl stood behind a microphone reciting poetry. A few people turned to look at him and he took a couple of steps backwards, ready to run to anywhere but there. 

He was stopped when he stepped on someone’s foot, hearing a quiet curse behind him. “Sorry!” Liam squeaked out as he whirled around to face the overnight barista. “P...p-lease. I d...d-idn’t-”

The boy laid his hand on Liam’s arm, stopping the struggle. “It’s alright. Leaving already?” Liam chewed his lip, looking around desperately as he felt his chest start to tighten. “C’mon. Black coffee, right?”

Liam didn’t even realize that the barista was leading him back into the shop until they stopped in front of a sofa that had a few people draped across it. “Move,” the boy said and a girl with white blonde hair slid into the lap of the curly-haired redhead sitting next to her. Liam felt himself pushed gently into the spot that had been vacated. He opened his mouth, but stopped when the barista leaned over to look directly in his face. “Black coffee, right?” he repeated and Liam nodded because it was easier than arguing.

He stared at the two girls who were staring back at him until a mug of coffee was being waved under his nose. “Liam, right?” the barista asked. Liam nodded and took the mug.

“Thanks,” he stuttered out before taking too large a drink to avoid the hazel eyes that were studying him, choking when he burned his tongue. The barista grabbed the mug and set it on the table within easy reach, his face studying Liam’s as the blonde patted him on the back. Liam waved them off and reached for his wallet. “I have to p...p...have to g...g...money!”

“On the house, man,” the barista interrupted. “You look like you saw a ghost.” His eyes roamed the shop before returning to Liam, realization lighting them up. “Or too many people.” Liam started chewing his lip again. “Do you want to leave?” Liam shrugged as the man scratched his thumb against his brow.

“Zayn, we’ll keep an eye on him,” the blonde said. “If that’s alright with you, love?”

Liam looked at her and the girl she was sitting on, who gave a big smile and wiggled her fingers at him. He looked back at the barista and wavered his head back and forth. “They don’t bite,” he offered.

“Very hard at least,” the curly haired girl said, her voice loud and startling Liam.

“Jesy,” the blonde snapped, smacking her on the arm before turning a softer smile on Liam. “Ignore her.”

Liam nodded, wide eyes locked on the barista who was watching him as he backed away towards the counter.

Once he was gone, Liam picked his mug up and took another sip, eyes scanning the still crowded shop as the lights grew brighter and a boy with long hair began taking down the small “stage” set up near the front. After a minute, his skin prickled and he turned to discover the two girls were still staring at him and he moved his mug to his lap where he fiddled with it. “Hi,” he said, glad he got it out on one try.

“Hi,” the blonde said. “I’m Perrie. This is my girlfriend, Jesy.”

“P...p-leasure to meet you,” Liam whispered, looking down at his lap.

“How do you know Zayn?” Jesy asked and Liam looked up at her, trying to make sense of her question.

“Zayn?” Familiar panic began taking over as he struggled to try and find the name he’d clearly forgotten. He hated when this happened and it happened far too frequently. Names, objects, words in general just disappeared from his brain. It was always worse when he was nervous or stressed, which was most of the time. Right then, it was both.

“Cute guy that gave you coffee,” Perrie supplied after a minute. “Oh, you didn’t know his name.”

Liam nodded and then shook his head before sighing. “I d...d-idn’t. I come in here at…” He squinted knowing the word was an easy one, but not being able to find it. He saw the girls looking at him with concern, but neither of them jumping in to finish his sentence for him. “Um, not d...d-ay.” His voice was quiet but Jesy suddenly nodded in understanding. 

“Night. You come here at night?” Liam gave her a grateful smile and nodded.

“Ooooh,” Perrie said. “He’s the one - ouch!” She cut off her sentence when Jesy pinched her side and Liam wondered what she was going to say when the barista reappeared again. “Zayn! Meet Liam.”

“Liam, meet Zayn,” Jesy said, smiling.

“Nice to meet you officially,” Zayn said, smiling as he topped off Liam’s coffee.

“Y...y-ou, too,” Liam said, looking at the mug in his hand, not wanting to look up at the boy and see the sad eyes he usually gave him when he struggled to speak to him.

“Did you, like, want anything to eat? I know you usually stick to coffee, but it’s early. Liam looked longingly at the pastries in the display case. He’d tried to order one the first time he’d discovered the shop, but it hadn’t gone well. When the silence dragged on, Liam finally shook his head, giving up on the idea of the scone.

“Well, if you change your mind, just, like, yell, yeah?” Zayn said. Liam smiled, nodding; warmth filled his chest when Zayn returned the smile, eyes sparkling.

“You don’t talk much,” Jesy observed when Zayn left, scoffing when Perrie pinched her again. “What? He doesn’t.”

“W...w-ould y..y-ou if y...y-ou talked like me?” He was exaggerated the stutter a bit, but he was glad when the girls both giggled and shook their heads.

Liam relaxed into the sofa as the girls chatted, including him in the conversation with mostly yes and no questions. When the answer required more, they waited patiently for him to finish the sentence unless he asked for help finding a word. The ease at which they’d accepted and included him kept him distracted from the crowd until they both stood up.

“Time for us to go,” Jesy told him, handing over a slip of paper. “Text us anytime.”

“It was really nice meeting you,” Perrie said as well and Liam stood to give them both a hug.

“I w...w-ill,” he told them, speaking slowly and deliberately. 

The rest of the coffee shop had emptied out while he’d been talking with the girls and their heels echoed against the tile. Zayn held the door open, kissing each of them on the cheek as they passed. Once they were gone, Zayn closed the door and flipped the lock with one hand while his other pulled the chain on the open sign, darkening it.

“Are y...y-ou closing?”

“Every night at ten,” Zayn told him with a shrug. “You hadn’t noticed?”

“No.” Heat flooded Liam’s cheeks and guilty tears threatened to cover them as well. He started gathering his stuff. “I’m sorry.”

A hand covering his stilled his movements. “Man, I’ve spent nearly every night this term with you. If it was a problem, I would’ve told you. I’m not that nice.” Zayn took Liam’s rucksack, settling it next to the sofa before pushing Liam lightly onto the cushions with a smile.

Liam began sputtering, all of the words escaping his brain; all he could think was that he should leave. He couldn’t believe he’d been keeping a complete stranger awake all night for months. Zayn probably wasn’t even getting paid and Liam was costing the owners money and his black coffees with free refills weren’t giving much back. Liam opened his wallet, digging out the few notes he had and shoving them at Zayn.

Zayn took a step back, hands up and away so that Liam couldn’t force the money on him. “You don’t have to pay me. My parents own this place and I run it for them.”

“The time y...y-ou d...d-ream!” Liam shouted at him, angry at himself for losing another word even though he should be used to it by this point. “Y...y-ou need it!”

“Sleep?” Zayn asked, chuckling. Liam’s already heated face burned even more, moisture filling his eyes. “You really get wrapped up in your work, don’t you? I spend a lot of the night over there sleeping or doing homework or anything really. Trust me, being here has been great for my grades.” Liam scoffed. “Seriously. If I’m here, I’m not watching telly or drinking or getting high. It’s a good thing, truly. If it were an issue, I’d have thrown you out the first night.” He poked at Liam’s cheek, forcing a smile.

“P-promise?” Liam asked, feeling like a little kid, but desperately needing to believe Zayn was telling him the truth.

“I solemnly swear,” Zayn responded, right hand raised.

“That y...y-ou’re up to-” Liam started, smiling broadly as the joke tripped over his lips.

“That I’m up to no good, yeah,” Zayn finished for him, Liam’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “What?”

“Nothing,” Liam answered, pulling his laptop out and turning sideways on the sofa, effectively shutting Zayn out.

“Right,” Zayn said, dragging the word out, but taking the hint and returning to the counter.

Liam booted up his laptop, putting his earbuds in and queueing up a lecture for one of his online courses. He settled back into the arm of the sofa, the teacher's voice droning through the wires as Liam’s eyes drooped.One second he was learning about the importance of foley artists in early movies and the next he was in the backseat of his father’s car. 

_ The radio wasn’t playing music. His professor’s voice through the speakers instead. He unbuckled his seat belt and reached forward, like he always did, but when his father turned his head, Zayn’s eyes met his. _

Liam jerked awake just as the car lit up in his dream, barely catching his laptop before it slipped from his lap. Glancing over towards Zayn, he seemed to be sleeping on the counter next to his own laptop. The cover displayed some wicked comic book style artwork on it; Liam wondered where he got it and made a note to try and ask him.

Knowing Zayn hadn’t noticed his flailing had Liam taking a deep breath as his hands shook over the keys of his laptop. Moving slowly and carefully, he logged into a forum for the class he’d just slept through, jumping when an unfamiliar song blasted his ears, the line “Who you gonna call?” repeated in a husky voice pulling his attention back to his laptop. The song was coming from a pop up for the helpline, the link flashing in the middle of the screen to the beat of the music.

Still shaken from the dream, he clicked the link. A second window opened with the name of the helpline followed by a few paragraphs.  _ “Welcome to the Peer Counseling Program. This program is run by current Psychology students at the university. They are volunteering for college credit and are not licensed Psychologists. They can, however, help you find a licensed Psychologist if the need or desire arises.” _

The page continued with more disclaimers and continuous reminders that the line was anonymous to protect both the students manning and those using the program. Finally, at the bottom of the page were three links: one for the telephone program, one for the texting app, and one for the online chat program.

Liam debated between the last two options, but he knew his phone was already near capacity with game apps and photos, so he clicked the online chat link. As the page loaded, another full of explanations and disclaimers, his memories of the crash and his dreams played over in his head. The site requested some basic information from him, all answers completely optional, and he debated just closing out the window or hitting the connect link without filling any of them out, but if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

Liam entered his age, year of schooling and gender, hesitating when he got to the space requesting his name. The note underneath the box stated that any name could be used and that real names were not necessary, so he typed ‘James,’ his middle name. He debated over the questions about peer counselor preferences, trying to picture if a man, woman, or agender person would be easiest to open up to and if it really mattered since the person would be faceless anyway. After clicking each button once, he finally left the circle next to male coloured in, thinking that at least he and his counselor would have one thing in common that way.

After he clicked submit, he had a moment of panic and almost slammed his laptop shut, but another window opened asking him to please wait and the song began playing again. Humming along, he began to wonder if it was a proper song available to download somewhere or just a jingle. He was pretty sure Louis would enjoy it and was about to Google the song when every thought in his brain slammed into a mental brick wall with one word in neon spray paint on it.

Louis! Louis was currently enrolled in several Psychology classes for his Elementary education major. He’d never mentioned the helpline other than giving Liam the flyer, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t doing it; Louis was weird about what he felt was worth sharing with people, even his best mate. He was about to slam the lid shut for a second time when another window opened, this one reminiscent of the chat programs he’d used when he was much younger.

_ Rodger: Hi, James. My name is Rodger. Thank you for contacting the Peer Education Program. I have to remind you that I am not a licensed Psychologist (even though you’ve read that about five hundred times already in order to get to this point). _

Liam laughed out loud, immediately feeling some of the tension in his shoulders melt away. He looked over towards Zayn to see if he’d disturbed him, but the barista was focused on his laptop, typing away.

_ Rodger: Just to let you know, this is my first year volunteering for the program, but I am a fourth year Psychology minor, so I’m not completely new to what we may be discussing. And speaking of that, what did you want to talk about tonight? _

Liam hesitated, his mind went in a thousand different directions, images of the dreams and flashes of earlier when he’d panicked and failed as a human being when Zayn had been so nice to him. He wasn’t even sure where to begin. He noticed Zayn refilling his coffee mug, so he pulled out his earbuds and smiled at him. “T-thanks.” Zayn nodded before returning to his counter muttering under his breath before he returned to his laptop; Liam wondered what he was doing.

_ Rodger: Are you there?  _

Cheeks burning, Liam finally put his fingers to the keys and responded.

_ James: Yeah, sorry. Um, hi. _

_ Rodger: Hello. Do you still want to talk or… _

Did he? Liam wasn’t even sure anymore, but he hated the thought of wasting this guy’s time.

_ James: Yeah. Yeah, I do. I’m just not really sure about what. _

Liam heard Zayn chuckle behind him.

_ Rodger: Well, what made you click the link? _

_ James: Honestly, I’ve been bombarded by different advertisements for the helpline for the last couple of days. The song got stuck in my head. Then I fell asleep watching a lecture and had a dream and when I logged into the forum for that course, another ad popped up and I just clicked on it without thinking too much about it. _

_ Rodger: Do you want to talk about the nightmare? _

Liam looked back over what he’d typed. He’d said dream. He always called it a dream. The one therapist he had seen had told him that by calling it a nightmare, he was giving it power it didn’t deserve. He’d never understood that, but he’d fallen into the practice of not using the word. Ever.

_ James: I didn’t say it was that. _

_ Rodger: What? A nightmare? I’m sorry. I just assumed if the dream was important enough to mention, it must’ve been a bad one. Plus, it’s nearly two in the morning and you aren’t sleeping, so there must be a reason. _

Liam looked at the clock on his desktop, surprised that it really was that late; he’d slept longer than he’d thought. He looked back over his shoulder to Zayn, his pen flying over the pad of paper next to him, his eyes rhythmically looking back towards his laptop screen every few seconds.

_ James: You know what they say about assuming. _

Zayn let out a loud laugh, Liam jumping in response and when he glanced over his shoulder, Zayn just muttered an apology and waved him off before turning his attention back to his laptop.

_ Rodger: I never claimed I wasn’t an a$$. (There is nothing more annoying than the autocensor on this thing.) _

_ James: Is this how counseling is supposed to go? This is different than what I tried as a kid. _

_ Rodger: And how does that make you feel? (Where is the sarcasm font when you need it?) _

Liam narrowed his eyes at the the screen. Nightmare. Hating the autocensor. Sarcastic answers. Fear shot through him.

_ James: I know this is supposed to be… _

Liam stopped typing as he tried to think of the word he was looking for, but it was just out of his grip and he was suddenly glad there was no indication he’d begun typing so that Rodger wouldn’t wonder if he was typing a novel or suddenly disappeared. Opening the notepad on his computer, he type an ‘A’ and thought for a minute before writing anonymous. He knew that word was close to what he was thinking, but wasn’t the one he wanted. He typed the letter ‘B’, but nothing came to mind except ‘bed’ and that was just because he’d yawned while typing the letter.

After a couple seconds of thinking it over, he typed ‘C’ and something felt right about that letter, like the word was beginning to knock at the door of his brain, so he continued with an ‘a,’ but quickly deleted it. He did the same with an ‘e’ and an ‘i’ until he was looking at ‘Co’ on the screen in front of him. ‘Confident’ sprang to mind, followed by ‘confidence’ until he finally landed on what he’d been searching for.

Confidential.

_ James: I know this is supposed to be confidential, but I have to ask before I say anything else. You aren’t Louis Tomlinson are you? _

_ Rodger: If I tell you I’m not, isn’t that breaking confidentiality. _

Liam made to close his laptop, not willing to risk giving Louis fodder to tease him for years, but another message appeared before he could and Liam began to wonder just how fast Rodger typed. 

_ Rodger: I’m not him. I know of him, but I’m not him. Anything you tell me will never be told to him. Although, since I don’t know who you are, even if I did tell him, I don’t think they’d be able to figure out who it’s about anyway. _

_ Rodger: Unless your name really is James.  _

_ James: Not really. _

_ Rodger: So, there’s a good chance we don’t know each other. I promise if, for whatever reason, I discover your true identity, I will keep that knowledge to myself. _

Liam smiled at how formal Rodger sounded. It almost sounded like something a superhero would say. He told Rodger as much.

_ Rodger: Well, I am a huge comic geek. If you ever did see me, you’d know. I can’t deny it. _

Liam tried to work through the meaning of his words as Rodger went on a rant about how it was impossible to actually choose between DC and Marvel when both franchises had their good and bad points.

_ James: I was in a car accident when I was little. My dad died. _

Liam blinked at the screen, his mind wondering what possessed him to interrupt Rodger with that bit of information. He never really talked about the accident or the year afterwards with anyone. Not even his mum. 

_ Rodger: Were you alright? _

Liam took a deep breath, ‘confidential’ running through his mind, twisting with ‘anonymous’. He placed his fingers on the home keys and started typing, hitting send before he could change his mind.

_ James: Not really. I was in a coma for four days. When I woke up, I had amnesia regarding the accident and my brain hasn’t worked quite right since. _

_ Rodger: You’re in college, so it has to work at least a little bit. _

_ James: How do you know I’m in college? _

Liam’s fingers tapped along the edges of the screen. He was lowering it, turning his body off the sofa, escape in the forefront of his mind when another message appeared.

_ Rodger: Just being an a$$ again. I assumed because the program is really only advertised on the college intranet and bulletin boards that you would be a student, but I suppose you could be faculty or family as well. I apologize. _

_ James: No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being so  _

Liam stopped typing. The word had been there when he started the sentence, but then it was gone. He opened his notepad program again and began working his way through. He was on the L’s when Zayn appeared with the carafe of coffee, stopping the pour just in time as he saw the mug was still full.

“Do you want a fresh mug?” Liam shook his head, his eyes still locked on his screen. “Something else?”

“No, thanks,” Liam responded, lips barely curving at the corners as he was pulled from his concentration. Zayn returned his smile with a wider one, his eyes crinkling until they almost disappeared. He took a step towards the counter, stopping when Liam said his name. “W...w-hat’s the w...w-ord when y...y-ou think p...p-eople are out to g...g-et y...y-ou?” He let out a breath when Zayn let him get the entire sentence out.

Zayn’s brows furrowed for a moment. “Paranoia?” he asked, voice cautious.

“Y...y-es!” Liam shouted, laughing when Zayn stumbled backwards, eyes wide. “Thank y...y...Thanks.” He smiled as he quickly finished typing.

“No worries, mate,” Zayn responded, heading back to the counter.

_ James: No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being so paranoid. It’s not like it’s really a secret my brains messed up, everyone notices and points it out. _

Liam glanced over his shoulder when he heard Zayn let out a small gasp. Liam rubbed a hand over his face, debating how much he wanted to get into his problems, but he wasn’t brain damaged enough to ignore the loosening of the band around his chest the more he told.

_ James: Ever since I woke up, I have dreams about the accident, but it’s not my dad in the car anymore. It’s usually my friends or other family members. Sometimes, well, once, it was a basic stranger who had just been nice to me. _

Liam’s body shook as he remembered Zayn’s face in the dream. It was the first time he’d dreamt of someone outside his small circle.

_ Rodger: Did you have one of your ‘dreams’ with a roommate? Is that what people give you a hard time about? _

Liam’s fingers hovered over the keys. Impressed by the deduction that Rodger had made, even though it was incorrect.

_ James: The dreams aren’t what make it obvious. I’ve always roomed with a friend that’s known about the dreams since they started. My issues are obvious to everyone. I stutter. Badly. Not just a word here or there. In the beginning, sometimes it would literally take me five minutes to get five words out. On top of that, I have Aphasia. Do you know what that is? _

_ Rodger:  _ _ Loss of ability to understand or express speech, caused by brain damage. _

Liam snorted.

_ James: Did you just look that up? _

_ Rodger: No. It was a vocabulary word on an exam today. How bad is it? _

_ James: It used to be a lot worse, but I’ve found ways to cope and help trigger my brain to remember the words. I’m pretty much past being embarrassed when I need to ask for a word or I provide a lame alternative. Earlier I said, “not day” when I meant “night”. Luckily the girl who corrected me didn’t laugh. Much. I’ve gotten better with all of it, but when I’m tired or stressed, it sometimes gets worse. The worse it gets, the more people try to help by finishing my sentences. _

_ Rodger: How does that make you feel? _

Liam let out a laugh, slapping his hand over his mouth. He wasn’t sure Rodger was trying to be funny this time, but it still felt like a joke between the two of them. From the corner of his eye, he watched Zayn moving around. He was erasing the specials board and writing “Blackberry Scones.” The aroma of fresh baked sugary goodness assaulted Liam’s senses as he tuned back into the world around him. Zayn must have been baking, something he’d done from time to time. Liam’s mouth watered and his stomach growled. Zayn’s fingers moved the chalk with gentle strokes creating a cartoon scone on the board. 

When he was done, Zayn brushed his hands off on his apron, turning to catch Liam watching him. A pleasant smirk twisted his lips. Heart racing, Liam went back to his keyboard.

_ James: Normally, it doesn’t bother me too much, but sometimes it’s really frustrating. For example, I went into a coffee shop once and there were these really delicious looking blackberry scones in the display case and I wanted one. When I tried to order it, my brain got stuck. I couldn’t get blackberry out and I’d already forgotten the word for scone. The place was busy and the barista looked stressed, so he finished my sentence with “black coffee” before I could point to the case. _

Zayn let out a loud curse and Liam whipped around to find him staring at him, his hands frozen over his own laptop. Liam tilted his head, eyes narrowed, but Zayn waved him off before beginning to type. Liam shrugged, lips turning down in a frown as another message came through.

_ Rodger: Please tell me you at least like black coffee. _

_ James: Can’t stand the stuff, but I drank it anyway and have continued to drink it everytime I go back to the same coffee shop. Disappointing when all I really want is a scone and some tea.  _

Liam chuckled as he sent the message back. He wondered if this was how therapy was supposed to go. The one therapist he’d tried to see had focused so much on the accident and not what Liam went through every day that he’d gotten frustrated. At that point, his stutter had still been truly awful, so he’d left the appointment in tears, and not the therapeutic kind. His mother never made him go back.

Talking with Rodger felt like talking to a friend. He didn’t press Liam to talk about anything specific and his words were equally supportive and teasing. Liam knew that what was wrong with him couldn’t be cured, but he really did think Rodger was helping in some way. Liam began to wonder if it was possible to request Rodger each time he logged on or if that was frowned upon because of the anonymity. He wondered if Rodger was even Rodger every time he logged on or if he chose a name at random each time. He was going to ask, but when he raised his fingers to type, he saw,  _ “Rodger has signed off. 0345 am”. _

Swallowing was difficult as Liam wiped at his eyes. He shut down his laptop quickly, focusing on his actions, trying to quiet the angry voice in his mind shouting derogatory comments. Shoving his laptop into its case with a little too much force, he tipped it over and papers, pens, and assorted other objects spilled over the table in front of the sofa. A few pens rolled all the way across and of the edge, the taps against the floor echoing like gunshots in Liam’s brain.

Dropping to his knees, he let the tears fall, no longer caring as he hurried to gather his things together. He wanted to escape, but even as his mind was on the door, it was also running through everything he could’ve said wrong to chase Rodger away. As he shoved the last thing in his bag, he started to plan what to say to Zayn as he left.

Should he just wave and leave, or offer some explanation for why he was running away? His head was starting to hurt from all of the thoughts and he knew he was going to have to take those little white things in the orange bottle his doctor gave him. He groaned as he tried to find the word, the tears falling even more.

Liam wanted to lay face down on the floor and pray that he’d just disappear when someone cleared their throat. Looking up, he saw Zayn standing there with two mugs in one hand, two plates in the other, and a box underneath his arm. Falling back on his bum, Liam watched as Zayn gave a tentative smile and laid the items on the table. One mug of what appeared to be steaming water was placed in front of Liam, the other, smelling strongly of black coffee, directly across the table. Next, a plate with two blackberry scones was put alongside the mug while a plate with a muffin of some sort was placed across from him.  Finally, Zayn placed the box on the table and opened it before turning it towards Liam. Colourful packages of tea bags filled the box.

“Confused,” Liam blurted out. It was the only word that popped into his head.

“I know this is, like, a complete break in the rules and you can report me if you want. I’ll even give you the number of the professor you need to contact to do it, but I owe you a huge apology,” Zayn said, settling down on the floor across from Liam and reaching for his coffee. 

Zayn nodded towards the tea bags; Liam leafed through before pulling out a pale blue one of Earl Grey, opening it and popping it into his water. He looked around for sugar, smiling when Zayn snapped his fingers before reaching into the pocket of his apron and tossing a handful of paper packets on the table. “Do you need milk?” Liam shook his head. 

Awkward silence spread between them as Liam finished preparing his tea. He broke off a piece of the still warm scone and shoved it in his mouth, moaning at the warmth and flavour. “D...d-elicious,” he muttered around the mouthful.

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t wait for you to ask for one the first time you came in,” Zayn said, eyes towards the ceiling as he spoke. “I’m surprised you kept coming back.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Zayn before glancing over his shoulder towards the counter where Zayn’s laptop was open and turned towards them, the screen for the helpline displayed. “Rodger?” he asked, still staring at the screen.

“Yeah. Like I said, I know that I shouldn’t be doing this, but after what you said about the barista, I knew it was me and I, like, couldn’t go on as if I had no idea and not apologize. If you want to report me for, like, unprofessional behaviour or something, I’ll give you my professor’s phone number.” Zayn ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends.

Liam ate another bite of scone, chewing slowly, savouring the flavour before following it with a sip of tea. Warmth filled his chest as he closed his eyes, releasing the tension he’d been feeling all night out on a deep sigh. Setting his mug down on the table, he fixed his gaze on Zayn, whose eyes were wide, lower lip clasped firmly between his teeth. “No. I d...d-on’t w...w-ant to g...g-et y...y-ou in trouble.” He spoke slowly, wondering if Zayn would jump in, but he just watched Liam patiently. 

Taking a deep breath, Liam planned what he was going to say to avoid as many of the sounds that gave him trouble, relieved that Zayn was giving him the opportunity to do so. “Rodger helped me.  _ Y...y-ou _ helped me.  Could have said farewell, though,” he teased. Zayn’s face relaxed in response.

“Too eager to make amends, I suppose. Too embarrassed, to be honest.” He shrugged and picked up his mug. “Do you still want to talk? I’ll listen I promise. I’ll do my best not to interrupt unless you ask me for a word.”

Liam thought about how comfortable he’d felt talking to Rodger, knowing a large part of it was that he didn’t actually have to speak, but that a smaller part, the part that actually mattered, was because it felt like Rodger really was listening. There was just one tiny matter that had to be settled before he would start talking. “Still swear not to tell Lou?”

Zayn’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “I solemnly swear,” he vowed, holding up his right hand.

Liam smiled as he began talking. Their conversation between topics. One moment they were talking about the accident and Liam’s condition, the very next they’d switched to their favourite superheroes. Liam admired Zayn’s tattoos and asked about the drawing on his laptop.

“I drew it,” he responded, lowering his eyes to his hands.

“It’s sick,” Liam admired.

“I can do one for you,” Zayn offered. He looked Liam over, smirking. “Batman, right?” Liam looked down at his shirt and back to Zayn, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll give it to you the next night you come in.”

“Y...y-ou d...d-on’t-”

Zayn held up a hand. “Don’t finish that sentence.” Liam’s jaw dropped, eyes blinking rapidly to keep sudden tears at bay as he pushed to his feet, scrambling for his bag. “Not because of your stutter!” he hurried to add, moving to Liam’s side of the table and putting a hand on Liam’s arm to pull him to sit next to him. “I just knew you were going to protest and you don’t need to do that. Now that we’re, like, actually talking, it’ll make the nights even better. So, anytime you are trying not to sleep, show up here. In fact, give me your phone.”

“W...w-hy?” he questioned, but was already unlocking his phone and handing it over. 

Zayn fiddled with it before passing it back. “So you can text me if you want to hang out.” Liam grinned down at his phone. “Or just anytime.”

After that night, they began texting on a regular basis. Liam told himself that because they were communicating, he would spend less nights at the coffee shop, but he was lying to himself. He still spent just as many nights of the week there. Instead of staying behind the counter, Zayn would join him on the sofa, sharing baked goods, studying, chatting and, generally, getting to know each other better. 

There were some nights where neither of them felt like talking, the only sound being the tinny music coming through the overhead speakers; those nights were some of Liam’s favourites. It had been a long time since he had met someone new that he grew to feel that comfortable around, someone who quickly came to mean as much to him as Louis.

It wasn’t long before Zayn would come to the flat to hang out with Liam and his friends. One night he brought his friend, Harry, the long-haired boy that ran open mic night at the coffee shop. Zayn and Liam both had a giggle as Louis tripped over himself trying to make Harry comfortable and Niall muttered something about being a fifth wheel. When Liam pointed out that none of the five were actually dating, Niall muttered, “Yet,” under his breath and Zayn changed the subject.

A few months later, Liam sat on the sofa browsing ads on the computer for people looking for flatmates. He had papers on the tables with ads for rooms to let circled in red. He knew he’d most likely be heading home for the summer holidays because Louis was graduating and he couldn’t afford the flat on his own, but he still needed to figure out what he was going to do the following year before he went home or he knew that his mum would talk him into transferring schools and staying home.

He’d just gotten done going through another batch of ads for flatmates that didn’t sound promising and let out a growl of frustration as Zayn dropped down onto the sofa beside him. “Vas happenin’?”

“Nothing,” Liam muttered.

“Looks like something,” he replied, plucking a paper off the table. “Need a new flatmate?”

“Need a new p...p-lace to stay,” he replied. “Lou is...he’s...finishing school.”

“Graduating, huh? Leaving little Liam behind?” Zayn teased, stopping when Liam ripped the paper out of his hand. “Come stay with me.”

“W...w-hat?”

“We can get a second bed for the bedroom and you can’t beat free rent since my parents own the building and don’t charge me anything. Plus, it’s not like we don’t get along. You’re, like, my best friend, yeah?” Zayn’s voice was so matter-of-fact, Liam found himself agreeing.

Before the night was over, Zayn had convinced Liam to stay at school over the summer holidays to work a couple shifts at the coffee shop to cover for other employees who wanted to go home. He tried to offer to work for free in exchange for rent, but Zayn wouldn’t hear of it. Liam tried to keep arguing, but Zayn skyped his parents, who had met Liam on Skype before, and had them tell Liam he was welcome to stay for free and that they would be paying him for any shifts he work. They just asked Liam to take care of Zayn for them, telling him that they hadn’t seen their son so happy or his grades so good in many years. Liam wanted to ask what they meant by that, but Zayn quickly ended the conversation and closed the laptop.

Liam’s mum was another story. She argued against Liam moving in with a stranger and staying away for the summer. She finally relaxed and agreed after coming to visit and meeting Zayn for herself and seeing the flat. She even went out and bought Liam a bed and the both of them a new sofa, declaring the one Zayn already had a deathtrap. By the time she left, Liam thought he was going to die of embarrassment from the way she’d fussed over them. Zayn closed the door behind her, shaking his head fondly, as he shoved Liam in the shoulder. “She really loves you, mate.”

Even though there were a few weeks left in the year, Louis helped Liam and Zayn get the flat organized and all of Liam’s stuff moved in, claiming the sooner he got Liam out, the sooner Harry could start spending the night. Despite his bravado, Louis spent the first three nights on their sofa, pulling Liam down next to him, claiming he had to make sure Liam was properly settled so Liam’s mum wouldn’t kill him.

The first night that it was just the two of them in the flat, Liam had a long day of final exams and was exhausted, so he didn’t remember dreaming anything at all, but despite all the damage to his brain in the accident, he wasn’t stupid. He knew it was just a matter of time before the dream would happen and he wondered how Zayn would react. Although Liam had told him about the dream, in more detail than he’d ever told anyone, it was different than being woken up in the middle of the night by one. With their beds being barely three feet apart, there was little chance of Zayn sleeping through Liam waking up screaming.

It was just over a week of living together when it finally happened, Liam’s mum in the driver’s seat and the dream lasting through until the point in the memory when he must have lost consciousness in real life. When Liam’s eyes flew open, his throat already aching, he became aware of a firm hand on his shoulder pressing him into the mattress and a gentle hand in his hair, stroking through the sweat soaked strands. Liam swallowed hard, squinting in the darkness as the soft words of the song from the helpline broke through his consciousness. He reached out blindly, his hand coming in contact with Zayn’s face, feeling his lips moving under his fingers along with the song.

“It’s y...y-ou?” he asked, finally managing to shake Zayn’s hands lose to sit up and turn on the light clipped to his headboard.

“Wrote it, too,” Zayn’s voice was low, soothing, as his dislodged hands now hovered over Liam before finally settling to lay one on Liam’s arm and the other in his own lap. “A couple of friends and I came up with it for the helpline after watching the  _ Ghostbusters _ reboot. 

“That’s w...w-hy it always reminds me of the movie.” Liam giggled, but it was raspy and pulled at his vocal chord. He grabbed for the water bottle he kept on the nightstand, his fingers fumbling against it, sending it over the edge. Zayn caught it, twisted the cap off and held it to Liam’s lips until he took a sip.

“What else do you need?”

Liam thought for a minute, debating between embarrassing himself by asking for what he really wanted and staying up all night. His strong desire to go back to sleep won out, so he closed his eyes before whispering, “Just keep singing.” Zayn grasped his hands, starting to sing an Elvis Presley song just as softly as he had been before, his thumbs rubbing circles into the back of Liam’s hands as he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he was alone, but could hear Zayn moving around the kitchen, the smell of pancakes filling the air. Stretching his arms and scratching at his stomach, Liam made his way into the other room. Zayn didn’t even notice him enter, too involved with the music playing just a bit too loud through his headphones, singing along quietly. Liam snorted when he recognized the song as  _ Wonderwall _ , then burst into full out guffaws, startling Zayn into turning around, when he got the words wrong.

“Morning,” he said, still smiling as Zayn pulled out his earbuds and glared at him. “Y...y-ou have a really lovely voice.”

“Thank you,” Zayn mumbled, turning back to the stove, removing the last of the pancakes from the pan and adding them to the already towering stack. “I used to sing a lot when I was kid and my sisters would bang on the walls begging me to shut up. Eventually, I stopped singing when people could hear.”

“Except the song,” Liam offered, setting plates out on the counter. 

“Except the jingle,” Zayn corrected. “It’s really just a chorus, never could seem to come up with proper verses. Harry’s been trying to talk me into performing at open mic night, but…” He trailed off, shrugging a shoulder.

“D...d-o it,” Liam said, voice serious. “Everyone w...w-ould love y...y-ou.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Zayn responded before changing the subject to something inane.

A few weeks later, as they were closing up after another successful open mic night, Liam brought the subject up again, but Zayn just shook his head and ignored him. The same thing happened again the next month. Finally, in August, when Liam noticed the date for the open mic night, he asked again.

“Open mic night is on my birthday,” he told Zayn. “W...w-ill y...y-ou p...p-lease sing for me?”

Zayn sighed, but didn’t argue. Liam stood behind the counter at the coffee shop, smiling as Zayn sat on stool, looking only slightly uncomfortable, as Niall tuned his guitar. With a deep breath, Zayn looked up at the crowd, a typical one for open mic night. His gaze flicked around the room before landing on Liam, he shook his head minutely before leaning into the mic. 

“Someone asked me to sing tonight and, for some reason, I just can’t seem to say ‘no’ to him,” Zayn mumbled in his thick accent and although Liam couldn't see any colouring to his cheeks, wondered if they were as warm as his own.

As Zayn sang, the chatter in the shop died out, everyone’s eyes locked on him. Liam smiled as he heard a girl at a table close to the counter sigh happily. His gaze traveled back to Zayn, watching the lashes of his closed eyes brush his cheeks as he held the microphone with both hands and gave his all to it. The song was unfamiliar to Liam and was haunting and full of emotion and he smacked Louis who leaned over the counter to wipe a tear off Liam’s cheek. As the final notes trailed off and just before everyone leapt to their feet with applause, Zayn whispered, “Happy birthday, Leeyum.”

The weeks following open mic night were full of people complimenting Zayn on his voice and asking if he was going to perform again. Liam was so proud of his friend, but disappointed every time Zayn turned them down. He probably would’ve tried harder to convince him to perform again, but it seemed just one performance was enough to make Zayn comfortable enough to sing even more around the flat. It became a regular thing for Liam to fall asleep listening to Zayn singing gently. Sometimes, they would sing together and Liam would laugh him off when Zayn suggested the two of them should hit the road as a duo.

Eventually, Liam and Harry joined forces and convinced Zayn to start singing regularly at open mic night. More often than not at that point, Liam came home from classes to see Zayn on the sofa with a guitar in his lap, lyrics and chord progressions scribbled on papers spread over the table or crumpled on the floor. Zayn wouldn’t let anyone near his notes or hear the unfinished songs except for Liam.

For Zayn’s birthday, Liam surprised him with some recording studio time, explaining that it would count as a part of Liam’s grade for his sound mixing class. He also suggested that Zayn could probably make a few dollars selling CDs with the handful of songs that Zayn had written. Although Zayn argued, he eventually gave in and the first minted copy of the CD went to Liam who did a good job of wearing it out before he even uploaded the music to his iPod.

At the next open mic night, Liam took the night off from behind the counter and sat at a small table to the left of the performance area with a stack of Zayn’s CDs, smiling at the crowd that gathered around him once Zayn was done performing. It didn’t take too long before the CDs were gone and Liam was shopping Amazon for blank CDs to make some more. Harry joined him at the table when the crowd cleared. They were discussing Harry about possibly taking some pictures and creating some actual album art for the next run when a young man dressed in black jeans and a white button down approached the table.

“Excuse me, but do you represent Zayn?” he asked, holding a CD in one hand and tapping it against the palm of the other.

“We’re his mates. Is there are a problem with the disc?” Harry asked.

The man raised one eyebrow. “Haven’t really had a chance to check it out, have I?” He chuckled when he was done. “I actually wanted to talk to him about using that last song in my film.”

“Y...y-our film?” Liam asked, glancing over as Zayn joined them at the table, rubbing his thumb against his upper lip. The man followed Liam’s gaze and his face broke into a smile. “Zayn. Big fan.” Liam rolled his eyes as Zayn nodded in acknowledgement before shaking the extended hand. “That last song, it’s perfect for my final film project. I’d love to use it.”

Zayn turned wide eyes to Liam, who narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man. “W..w-here is this film g...g-oing to be shown?” he asked, huffing in disgust when the guy turned his body further into Zayn, effectively cutting Liam off.

“What do you say?”

“I say you answer Liam’s question,” Zayn responded, moving to stand behind Liam, hands on his shoulders. “And perhaps tell me who the fuck you are and why I should help you.” Liam shivered at the coldness in Zayn’s voice, smiling when Zayn rubbed his hands up and down Liam’s upper arms, warming him up. He smiled at the man who now looked furious. “If you can’t do that, then you can leave.”

“My name is Aiden Ainsworth, senior film student. I’m in the process of editing my final project and I think your song would be amazing as the romantic theme for the film,” he said, looking Zayn in the eye before turning his attention to Liam. “At first, it will be shown to a panel of professors and, if approved, it will be shown at a film festival at the main theatre on campus.” His eyes lit up and Liam couldn’t help smiling at him. “If all goes well, I would like to eventually submit it to The Monthly Film Festival in Glasgow.”

Liam looked up when Zayn squeezed his shoulder, nodding at his questioning look. “Alright, Aiden. You can use the song. You can contact Liam with whatever I have to do to make it happen.”

The film earned Aiden top marks and earned great reviews when it was shown on campus. Unfortunately, it was rejected from TMFF, but Aiden posted it on YouTube and it went viral rather quickly. A majority of the reviews praised Aiden’s script and filmography, but there was a subset of people who were desperate to get their hands on Zayn’s song.

In the midst of all of this, Zayn and Liam both graduated. Liam found a job at a small music studio in London, while Zayn decided to keep working at his family’s coffee shop while working on a graphic novel. The two of them continued to share the flat, growing closer even though Harry claimed they were already becoming the same person.

One afternoon, Liam was at work trying to mix a song for a bored housewife with zero talent, but plenty of money from her string of ex-husbands. He wasn’t sure autotune was supposed to be used so extensively, but his boss insisted the woman’s money was good, although Liam suspected there was something less than professional going on between his boss and the woman. Liam was working late trying to finish the demo by the next morning, relieved the woman had left already because she was very handsy and the wrong side of inappropriate with her comments.

When he did the most that he could with what he had to work with, he stood, stretching his back with a groan. He needed to clean up the studio before he could head home for the night, so he put on Zayn’s music on his iPod and began singing along as he went about his business. After about an hour, he was done and turned the music off, jumping when his boss spoke up from behind him.

“What was that you were listening to?” Mr. Cowell asked from where he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“My flatmate, Zayn,” Liam explained, pocketing his iPod and grabbing his keys off the table next to the recording deck. “He p...p-erforms at the coffee shop sometimes and w...w-e recorded a couple of songs to sell.”

“Has he submitted his music to anyone?”

Liam smiled, knowing that Mr. Cowell took the music industry seriously, despite the way he behaved around some of the customers who visited the studio. “No. I tried to talk him into d...d-oing it, but I’m not very…” Liam closed his eyes as he tried to think of the word.

“Eloquent?” Mr. Cowell provided, smirking.

Liam winced at the insult and provided the next best word for what he’d been trying to think of. “Convincing. I’m not very convincing.”

“Give him my number. Maybe I can be more  _ convincing, _ ” he said, turning away but not before Liam caught him rolling his eyes. 

“I really need a new job,” he muttered as he headed out the door, making sure the door was locked behind him.

Liam passed the message to Zayn, unsurprised when he laughed it off as a lark. They spent the rest of the night making up elaborate stories of what would happen if Zayn took the offer seriously and began a career in music. They swore up and down that no matter how famous he became, Zayn would always be there for Liam whenever he called.

Once Zayn drifted off to sleep, Liam watched him sleep for awhile before drifting off himself. He immediately found himself back in the car, the jingle playing on the radio and Zayn behind the wheel. The dream played through the crash, but instead of waking up, the dream kept going. Liam found himself outside the car on the ground. He ran to the upside down car and peered in the driver’s seat, but it was empty except for massive amounts of blood. Racing frantically around, he screamed for Zayn. 

He awoke to Zayn shaking his shoulder roughly and yelling his name, concerned hazel eyes locked onto Liam and the hand not on his shoulder was holding Liam’s wrists together. “C’mon, Liam, wake up,” Zayn was pleading.

“Zayn?” Liam rasped out, coughing at the burn in his throat. Yanking his hands free, he threw his arms around Zayn, sobbing into his shoulder. “It w...w-as the w...w-orst one y...y-et.”

“I could tell. You’ve never screamed like that,” Zayn told him, rubbing his hands up and down Liam’s back. “Was I driving?” His voice was barely a whisper, but Liam nodded into his shoulder.

“Y...y-ou w...w-ere g...g-one. I couldn’t find y...y-ou anywhere,” he sobbed out. “I called y...y-our name, but…” Liam couldn’t keep speaking, the words escaping into corners. 

“What, Liam? What happened when you called my name?” Zayn asked, voice soft. He extricated himself from Liam’s tight grip, cradling his face in his hands, searching his face for an answer. “Did you find me?” Liam shook his hand. “Did you hear me?” Another shake and he tried to pull out Zayn’s hands, eyes darting anywhere but Zayn’s face. “Then you know it was a dream because I will  _ always _ answer when you call my name.” Tears came to Zayn’s eyes as he pressed their foreheads together. “Always,” he repeated and kept repeating until Liam stopped crying and said it back.

A few months later, Liam was leaving the studio for open mic night when Mr. Cowell stopped him. “Did you ever talk to Zach about his music?”

“Zach?” Liam asked, distracted as he glanced at his watch.

“Your flatmate? The singer?” He spoke each word slowly and Liam could feel his temper growing. “I’ve got a client looking for a new singer and from what I remember of Zach’s voice, he would be perfect.”

“His name is Zayn,” Liam answered, fighting to keep steady. “I told him about your offer and he-” Liam groaned as the word escaped except for the letter ‘r’. 

“He...what?”

“He said he w...w-asn’t interested,” Liam told him. “He’s happy with his life the way it is now.” Mr. Cowell made an unimpressed face. “Now, if y...y-ou’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

Mr. Cowell held a card out to Liam. “Just give him my card and tell him to give me a call.” Liam started to argue, but the card was shoved at him again.

As he took the card gingerly between two fingers, Mr. Cowell finally stepped out of the doorway and Liam escaped quickly, shoving the card deep into his pocket as he hurried to catch the tube back to the coffee shop. He pulled up some job sites on his phone, really wanting to get away from Syco Recording Studios.

He got to the coffee shop with about a half hour to spare, surprised to find Harry standing behind the counter instead of Zayn. The boy’s face was crinkled in concentration as he made drinks without the usual sparkle in his green eyes. “W...w-here’s Zayn?” Liam called and Harry pointed to the ceiling before turning away from Liam complete, a slight shudder to his shoulders.

Racing up the stairs, Liam let himself into the flat, skidding to a stop when he saw Zayn on the sofa bookended by his parents, all three Maliks looking glum as they raised their heads to stare at Liam. “W...w-hat happened?”

Yaser, Zayn’s father, rose to his feet and approached Liam, pulling him into a hug. The older man’s body was trembling and Liam stared at Zayn with wide eyes. When he was released, Yaser led Liam back to the sofa, seating him next to Zayn before squeezing in himself. It was a tight fit, but Liam felt surrounded by warmth despite the growing chunk of ice in his chest. “Is something w...w-rong?”

“Zayn’s Daadi is ill,” Yaser explained. 

“The treatments are expensive,” Zayn added.

Trisha reached across Zayn and took Liam’s hand in hers. “We’re trying to figure out if selling the coffee shop will help, but we don’t want to put you and Zayn out.”

Liam swallowed hard. He didn’t want to lose the coffee shop or the flat he shared with Zayn, but he knew that his comfort wasn’t the important thing right now. “W...w-hat choice did y...y-ou make?”

“For now, we are going to stay as we are, but Zayn is going to have to find another job,” Yaser explained.

“I’ll w...w-ork for free. G...g-ive my money to D...d-aadi,” Liam offered.

“That’s very sweet, but you don’t have to do that, Liam.” Trisha squeezed his hand as Zayn’s head fell to his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around his friend holding him as the the shoulder of his shirt became damp.

“I w...w-ant to,” Liam insisted and then started digging into his pocket for the card Mr. Cowell had given him. “I know y...y-ou said no before, but y...y-ou should call him. P...p-eople buy the CDs at open mic night.”

“Not now, Liam,” Zayn whispered and Liam nodded, holding onto Zayn as his friend broke apart, glad that he could be there for him like he’d always been there for Liam.

Once everyone gathered themselves together, Zayn agreed to still perform that night because it had been too long since his parents had heard him sing. He sang a couple of the songs off the CD and then a few covers. He ended with a song he’d written in Urdu and dedicated it to his grandmother, bringing tears to Trisha’s eyes. Liam stood behind the counter, smiling proudly at how well his friend was holding up under pressure.

As soon as Zayn was done, he went to sit with his parents on the sofa Liam had occupied when he’d first met Zayn officially. Liam grabbed a black coffee for Zayn and a tea for himself and sat in one of the chairs across the low table from them. He didn’t realize he’d been followed until he was sitting and Mr. Cowell cleared his throat.

He held a hand out to Zayn, who took it apprehensively. “Greetings, Zayn. My name is Simon Cowell.”

“Liam’s boss,” Zayn returned as he pulled his hand back and turned wide eyed to Liam.

Mr. Cowell chuckled. “I wasn’t sure if he’d told you about me or if he’d shared my offer with you.”

“Offer?” Yaser asked, standing and offering his hand as well. “Yaser Malik. Zayn’s father.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Liam did give me your card earlier, Mr. Cowell,” Zayn said as his father settled next to him again and Mr. Cowell sat in the other chair.

“Call me Simon,” he said, smiling in a way Liam had only seen him use on clients before.

“Simon, then.” Zayn looked at his parents. “As I said, Liam gave me your card earlier, but there is, like, a family situation tonight.”

“I’m sorry to impose on you and your family, but I wanted to talk to you right away. I had one of my assistants pick up a CD last month and sent out copies of your songs to a few people and there are several interested in you. I didn’t want to pressure you, but tonight after Liam left, I got a call from someone who is extremely persistent. They offered an advance and are willing to have one of your songs, the one from that was used in that student film, released within the month.”

“How much of an advance?” Yaser asked.

Mr. Cowell pulled out a sheet of paper and passed it across the table. Liam strained to see and although the numbers were upside down and small, there were a lot of them. He could see the look on Zayn’s face as he reached out to trace the numbers with his index finger. Liam was impressed at how impassive Zayn’s parents were, letting Zayn take the lead. “Can I let you know in a couple of days?”

Mr. Cowell rose to his feet. “Of course. I’d been worried if you didn’t take time to think about it, just don’t take too long.”

Liam watched his boss leave without another word. He could hear the whispers of the Maliks, but wasn’t focusing on the actual words. After a few minutes, he rose and excused himself. “It’s g...g-etting late and I have to be at the studio early. It w...w-as nice to see y...y-ou both. I’m sorry it w...w-asn’t under better…better...I’m sorry it w...w-asn’t happier.”

Liam was only in bed a few minutes when he heard Zayn letting himself into the flat. Keys dropped on the hook by the door. One, two thuds of boots hitting the floor. The fridge opened and closed too quickly for Zayn to have actually taken anything out and finally the bedroom door creaked open, letting in some light from the hallway.

“You awake?” he asked.

“I am,” Liam whispered, sliding over in his bed and lifting the blanket. Seconds later, Zayn was wrapped around him, sighing into his chest. It was a tight fit, but not the first time they’d squeezed in together; just the first time it was for Zayn and not Liam.

They talked late into the night, the topic similar to that first night Liam had told Zayn about Cowell’s offer, but the lightness of the topic lost. By morning, Zayn had decided to give it a shot because even just the advance would be a big help to Zayn’s family and would allow Zayn and Liam to continue sharing the flat.

The next few months were a whirlwind. Zayn’s song did impressively well for an unknown on the charts and there were many late nights in the studio recording, Liam proud that Zayn fought for him to be on the controls mixing the music. Liam was glad that he was able to leave the autotune out of it all, Zayn’s natural talent coming through. He was able to be as passionate with the songs written by others as those he’d penned himself sitting with Liam in the coffee shop. 

There were a few nights when they left the studio that a few fans were waiting outside for Zayn and Liam could tell he was overwhelmed, but he smiled and posed for pictures and signed autographs like a seasoned professional. Once the crowds began growing too large, a bodyguard named Paul was hired who would escort Zayn everywhere. 

Finally, after about six months, the album was ready and Zayn came home from a meeting with Cowell. He fell facedown on the sofa with a groan. Liam picked up Zayn’s legs, laying across his lap as he sat down and began removing his shoes. “How w...w-as the meeting?”

“It sucked!” Zayn groaned. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the music and even the photo shoots for the album have been fun, but today was just weird.”

“How so?”

“They asked about you and our relationship,” Zayn mumbled, rolling over, but leaving his legs in Liam’s lap.

Liam froze, one hand grasping Zayn’s ankle, the other hovering above his shin. “W...w-hat d...d-id y...y-ou tell him?”

Zayn pulled his legs out of Liam’s lap to sit up and face him, waiting until Liam mirrored the position, taking one of Liam’s hands and interlocking their fingers and playing with them as he spoke, refusing to meet Liam’s eyes. “I told him, outside my family, you are the most important person in my life. That you’re my best friend and…” He trailed off and looked up to meet Liam’s eyes. “And that I love you.”

Liam’s throat was tight around the words that he wanted to say. He wanted to ask Zayn to clarify, but as he looked in his eyes, he knew he didn’t have to; he knew that Zayn felt the same way Liam had felt and hidden for so long. He bit his lower lip before nodding and leaning forward to brush his lips over Zayn’s.

“I love y...y-ou, too,” Liam whispered when he pulled back, brows furrowing when the confession made Zayn’s lips turn down at the corners. His chest tightened. “Y...y-ou d...d-idn’t mean...shit.” Liam jumped off the sofa and made his way to the door, ignoring his shoes and trying to open the knob, but it was locked. He struggled and slammed his fist against the door before dropping his forehead against it. He began trying to figure out where he would live, knowing he’d never be able to look Zayn in the face again.

“Liam. Liam. Stop!” Zayn shouted, wrapping his arms around Liam from behind and pressing his forehead between Liam’s shoulder blades. “I did mean. I totally meant, but the rest of the meeting went so badly after I told Simon. He said I can’t tell people that I’m in love with a man because it’ll ruin my career before it starts. He even introduced me to a girl, a spoiled rich girl turned model who would pose as my girlfriend at events and such.”

“A beard? He w...w-ants you to have a beard?” Liam questioned, head still against the door. “He w...w-ants y...y-ou to hide. Us to hide? He ruined this before it began,” Liam muttered.

He could feel Zayn shaking his head against his back. “No. No, please don’t say this is ruined. I want this. I wish I’d said something sooner. I tried to tell Simon to fuck off, to take everything and shove it up his arse, but he waved the contract in my face. I don’t have a choice unless I want to lose even more than they gave me.” 

Tears were soaking through the back of Liam’s shirt and he finally forced himself to turn around and pull Zayn into his arms. “I don’t want to lose you. I will tell them to take all my money and quit. You are more important than any of it.”

“No, Zayn. No. This career is w...w-hat y...y-ou need. Y...y-our family needs the money.” Liam took a deep breath. “I’ll be y...y-our dirty little secret, as long as it means I’m y...y-ours.” He didn’t want to admit just how much his heart broke saying those words, but he knew it would be nothing compared to seeing Zayn and his family suffer. His sacrifice was nothing compared to Zayn’s happiness and his Daadi’s life.

They stayed up the rest of the night talking, and kissing, and cuddling. The next day, they did a group Skype with both of their families to tell them that they were together, but that the papers would be printing a different story because that night was Zayn’s first date with Fifi.

“Gigi,” Zayn corrected fondly.

“Sorry. It’s the ‘g,’ Zayn. Can’t say it p...p-roperly,” Liam said back, only slightly teasing, earning a kiss to the forehead.

Their families were thrilled the two were finally together, Yaser even saying something about them finally getting their heads out of their arses. Karen and Trisha both cried and called them both son. They all expressed concern about the fauxmance Zayn was going to be forced into, but Liam convinced them he was fine with it, as long as Zayn always came home to him the end of the day.

“I’ll always come when you call,” Zayn reminded him after they’d disconnected. “Always.”

The fauxmance, Zigi, as they were dubbed by the model’s fans, took off like crazy, especially when the model appeared in Zayn’s first music video. Liam watched it once, but then refused to watch it again, claiming all the special effects made him nauseous. It did nauseate him, but it wasn’t the special effects, it was just how good of an actor his boyfriend was in the video.

He’d been forced to meet Gigi at Zayn’s birthday party. Zayn had promised that it was just going to be family and friends, but Simon showed up with her just before the cake and insisted photos be taken and their families post pictures of the happy couple. He made sure that not one picture of Zayn and Liam appeared anywhere, so when Liam went online the next day, he was forced to see photo after photo of the party and the two of them together. If he hadn’t been at the party, he’d be convinced he was an outsider looking in, which was Simon’s plan.

About six months later, Zayn came home looking exhausted and waving a sheet of paper at Liam. “I’m going on tour,” he said. “This is the itinerary.”

“I know,” Liam responded, voice cautious. “Mr. Cowell made sure I knew. He also made it very clear that I am not p...p-ermitted to attend any of the concerts.”

“Fucker,” Zayn muttered. “I want you there, Liam.”

“W...w-ants don’t mean shit anymore,” Liam responded and stood from the sofa. “Y...y-ou leave in two d...d-ays, right?” Zayn nodded. “Then let’s have an amazing two days.” 

The next two days were filled with cuddling, Netflix, a steady stream of carryout, and sex. They didn’t talk about the future or what was to come, but when the morning Zayn was to leave arrived, they couldn’t avoid the topic anymore. 

“We will talk every single day. At least once,” Zayn assured. “I’ll text you before I go on stage and as soon as I get off.” Liam giggled and Zayn shoved him. “Not what I meant.”

“I know. I’m just trying to keep the subject light,” Liam told him. “Just enjoy y...y-ourself. D...d-on’t be concerned w...w-ith me.”

“I’m always concerned about you,” Zayn told him, pressing their lips together. “I will answer whenever you call, so call anytime you need me. Especially if you have a nightmare.”

“A d...d-ream. And I w...w-ill, but I know y...y-ou’ll be too busy to always answer. I’m not stupid,” Liam teased.

“Never. I will always answer,” Zayn swore as he kissed Liam again, not breaking apart until Paul knocked on the door to take him away.

For the first month, while Zayn was in rehearsals for the tour, things went the way that Zayn had promised. It was almost normal except for not actually being able to see each other. Then the night of the first show arrived. Even though the show was only two hours away, Liam waited at home to watch through a special livestream that Yaser was going to do for Liam. He smiled when Zayn texted,  _ “Here I go,” _ just before he saw him take the stage on screen. 

The show was amazing. Liam knew Zayn was magnetic as a person and a performer, but now an entire theatre knew. The venue was small and had sold out quickly enough that a second show had been scheduled. His pride welled up through him until it sprang to his eyes and fell down his cheeks. By the time Zayn got to the final song, the one that had started his career, the love song from the movie, he was openly crying.

“This song was written for someone really special and I know they’re watching tonight. I love you,” Zayn said into the mic and Liam broke down into outright sobs.

“I’m so p...p-roud of y...y-ou,” Liam said into the phone when Zayn called later. “Amazing tonight.”

“Thanks, babe,” Zayn answered back, shouting over the background noise. It sounded like a party was going on and he could hear Yaser and Trisha. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I d...d-id,” he answered, the tears starting again. “I love y...y-ou, too. Y...y-ou won’t get into trouble w...w-ill y...y-ou?” Zayn fell silent, confirming Liam’s fears. “W...w-hat happened?”

“Nothing really.” Zayn sighed. “I have to do what’s called a pap walk tonight with Gigi so everyone can connect what I said to her.”

Liam’s throat seized up again. “It’s not hers!” he snapped. “That song w...w-as from before y...y-ou knew her!”

“Babe, I know that and you know that. You know that song was about you. Everything is about you,” he assured. “I love you.” Liam heard Paul nearby and a quiet curse from Zayn. “I’ve got to go. Please don’t look online tomorrow. I don’t know what all this is going to entail, but you don’t need to see it.”

That night, Liam had the dream, his father in the driver’s seat and Zayn’s song playing on the radio. He woke before the accident happened, gasping for breath and reaching for his phone. He pressed Zayn’s contact before he was even sitting up all the way. He listened to the ringing, heart sinking after the second ring went by interrupted. The third ring passed and Liam put his hand to his chest. When the fourth ring cut off into Zayn’s voice mail, Liam let out a weak cry and hung up without leaving a message.

Pushing himself off the bed, Liam made his way into the kitchen and started the kettle. He prepared a mug with sugar and the tea bag while the water heated. He was just pouring the cup when his phone rang. “Hello?” he answered unemotionally, even though he knew who it was, who else would call him at two a.m.

“Li?” Zayn’s voice was panicked and Liam tried to tamp down on the thrill that went through him knowing that the man was worried. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

“I had the d...d-ream,” Liam confirmed, working to keep his voice even. “I w...w-oke up. I called y...y-ou. Y...y-ou d...d-”

“I didn’t answer, I know,” Zayn rushed in, cutting Liam off for the first time in as long as he could remember. “I’m sorry. I was walking out of a restaurant, holding hands with Gigi for a half hour getting blinded by flashbulbs.”

“Oh,” Liam said, dumping his freshly made cup down the sink and rinsing the cup, suddenly too nauseous to drink. 

“I tried to pick up the phone, but Paul grabbed it. Said management would pitch a fit. I got my phone back as soon as I could.” Liam heard a car door open and sudden noise. Then Paul’s voice giving directions. A female voice called Zayn’s name. “Not now, Gi.”

“I’ll let you go,” Liam said, hanging up before Zayn could say anything else and when he tried calling back, Liam left his phone on the kitchen counter and headed back to his bed, knowing he wouldn’t sleep, but tried to convince himself to try.

The next morning, Liam jerks awake to the door to the flat opening. He’d managed to doze off just as the sun was coming up, so his movements were sluggish as he stumbled out of the bedroom. He stopped short when he came face-to-face with Zayn holding a bunch of brightly coloured flowers.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he moved closer to Liam. Every step he took forward, Liam stepped back until he was against the far wall. “I did the one thing I swore I would never do. I called you back as quickly as I could and when you hung up last night, I called management.”

“And?” Liam squeaked out, staying pressed to the wall even as Zayn moved until he was directly in front of him, the flowers the only thing separating their chests.

“They said you can join me on tour to help me record the next album,” Zayn told him, smiling. “You get to come to all the shows.”

“Fifi?” Liam asked, watching as Zayn deflated in front of his eyes. He moved away to the sofa and dropped down, forearms on his knees, flowers hanging between his legs. “Right.” Liam moved to sit next to Zayn, but stopped him when he tried to lay his hand on Liam’s leg.

“The only way I could get them to agree to you joining me was to promise to up the appearances with her. I don’t want to do it, Liam. I don’t even like her. I think she’s actually forgotten this is all fake, but I would do anything to have you with me.” He turned his head to look at Liam, eyes wide as his phone buzzed. “Shit,” he muttered as he glanced at it. “They’ve realized I’m gone.”

“W...w-hat?” Liam asked, grabbing the phone and seeing a text from Paul.  _ “Busted,” _ was all it said.

“Paul helped me get away, but he said he wouldn’t cover for me. I’m guessing we have five minutes before they come to get me.” He finally grabbed Liam’s hand, grip firm, but Liam just twisted their fingers together and squeezed. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to come with me?”

Liam shook his head and Zayn frowned. “I love y...y-ou, Zayn, but if I’m on the road with y...y-ou, I w...w-on’t be able to keep us a secret. Everyone knows how I feel just by looking at me. G...g-o and do y...y-our tour. Just, p...p-lease answer w...w-hen y...y-ou can.”

“I swear,” Zayn told him.

“Solemnly?” Liam asked, smiling and then laughing with Zayn as they pressed their lips together.

After Zayn was gone, Liam let the smile fall from his face. He loved Zayn and he wouldn’t leave him, but he wouldn’t stand in his way either. He was realistic enough to know that the situation they were in was a bad one for Liam; at some point, Liam would be left behind and as long as it meant Zayn was happy, he would have to be alright with that.

With every concert, Zayn’s following grew bigger. Liam loved seeing how excited people got over his music and spent a small part of every day retweeting posts about his music and supporting members of the “Zquad” including someone posing as Zayn’s evil twin Rodger, which Liam found hilarious. He didn’t make original posts very often and he avoided news articles as much as possible since most of them centered around Zigi and not Zayn.

One day as he was scrolling through the tag for Zayn’s latest song, another love song, he noticed a trend in some of the posts. A lot of the fans were talking about Gigi and how the song had to have been written for her because, according to them, everything Zayn did was about her. He was tired of those theories, but he’d grown used to them. Unfortunately, the images of Gigi’s hand and a large, sparkling ring that accompanied the posts did not help.

Taking a deep breath, Liam did what he swore he would never do. He googled “Zigi”. Hundreds of articles came up talking about the pair’s engagement, all of them stating that neither representative could be reached for confirmation. He reached for his phone, dialing Zayn before he could stop himself.

“Hello? Zee’s phone, Gi speaking.” Liam froze. “Hello?”

Liam hung up the phone. He shut his laptop, setting it on the table and his phone next to it. He walked to the fridge and checked Zayn’s itinerary. He was supposed to have a free day that day. The note next to it in Zayn’s handwriting said,  _ “Skype call with my baby”. _ Liam looked at the clock, noting it was nearly midnight and there’d been no call. In fact, there’d been no texts. There hadn’t been anything from Zayn since the day before. 

With shaking hands, Liam reached out and pulled the schedule from the fridge, crumbling it up and throwing it in the trash. Then he picked his phone up and dialed his mother. “Mum, I’m coming home,” he whispered. “Can I have my old room for a little bit?” 

Six months passed in a rush as Liam tried to reset his life. He still spent more time than not thinking about Zayn, wondering what the other man had done when he’d first tried calling Liam and gotten the disconnected message. A part of him wondered if he’d ever even tried. He deleted his online presence and switched to an old phone without internet access. After quitting Syco, he decided he needed a completely fresh start and began working at a garage near his mum’s house. 

His mum worried about him and he suspected she still talked to Trisha from time to time, but was kind enough not to mention it or Zayn. Most evenings he spent holed up in his room with a book, something to occupy his brain now that he’d cut out the internet and even music.

The biggest change for Liam was that he started seeing a therapist. His mum had insisted after the tenth consecutive night he had the dream. Every night the dream was the same, Zayn in the driver’s seat and every night it went to the point where he couldn’t find Zayn after the crash. The first counselor he’d gone to was just as bad as the one from when he’d been a child, but the second one he tried was much more laid back.

Dr. Patrick “Call me Paddy” O’Brien was a man in his early forties that looked like he’d probably served his country at some point in time. He was gruff and slightly intimidating in appearance, but once he smiled at Liam, his demeanor more closely resembled a teddy bear. The first appointment, when Liam refused to talk about why he was there beyond his mother had insisted, Paddy pulled out a deck of cards and they spent the rest of the session playing poker.

The next session, the cards were already out. This time, Paddy suggested they make it interesting, for every hand Paddy won, Liam had to tell him something about himself and for every hand that Liam won, Paddy would give him a free session. Liam was convinced that wasn’t ethical, but if he could keep winning like he had the previous session, all would be good.

The first thing Liam learned that session was that Paddy was a card shark who quickly kicked his arse. By the end of the session, the cards were set aside and Liam was talking about the accident and the dreams.

“Those are not dreams,” Paddy told him. “Dreams are things you desire. I certainly don’t think you desire to relive the accident that took so very much away from you. What you are experiencing are nightmares.”

“Dr. W...w-alsh said calling them nightmares g...g-ave them p...p-ower,” Liam explained.

“They already have power. A lot of power. Calling them dreams trivializes something that you should take very seriously.” Liam nodded, smiling slightly. “So, say it.”

“Say w...w-hat?”

“Nightmare. Tell me that you have nightmares.” Liam hesitated. “Go on. You can do it.”

“I...I have nightmares,” he whispered. He let out a wet laugh and wiped at the tears that sprang to his eyes.

“Good. That was good. Now, this week, I want you to tell someone else that you have nightmares. Doesn’t matter who it is, although the clerk at Sainsbury’s might report you for being crazy, so maybe choose someone closer to you.” Liam laughed and nodded, although he was unsure who he would tell. “I’d also like you to start keeping a journal when you have the nightmare. Write down when you have it, what happened on the day before, and who was in the driver’s seat. Maybe if we can come up with a pattern, we can work out how to stop them.”

Liam’s head was still reeling when he walked out of the office. He arrived home ready to tell him mum what had happened, but she wasn’t home. He glanced at the house phone and reached for it, dialing Louis’ number, smiling when he picked up. 

“I have nightmares,” he stated instead of a normal greeting, laughing when Louis did.

“It’s about time you admitted it,” Louis told him. There was a long pause filled with more laughter. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m d...d-oing alright. How’s Harry?” Liam hesitated to ask, not wanting Louis to think he was trying to find out about Zayn in a roundabout way, but he honestly wanted to know how the long haired boy was.

“He’s doing well. Think I’m going to propose. You’ll be my best man, yeah?” Louis asked, quiet. “Even if Zayn is Harry’s?”

“Y...y-eah, of course,” he said, quietly. 

The conversation lasted a bit longer and ended with Louis telling him to call Niall and tell him about the nightmares. The blond had been busy with the footie team he was a physio for, but had told Louis the other day that he was hoping the three of them could get together soon for a pint.

Once Liam hung up, he turned away from the phone. He wasn’t sure he was up to talking to anyone else that day. He was walking out of the kitchen when he noticed a magazine sitting at the bottom of the mail pile. The stubbled cheek that was peeking out from beneath a few bills looked familiar and as he moved the mail, he found himself staring into familiar hazel eyes.

Liam stumbled back against the wall and slid to the floor, holding the magazine and staring at Zayn’s face, tracing every angle as the love he’d been suppressing for months came flooding back. He finally let himself read the words printed on the cover. It was about a new single and Zayn talking about his new management, anxiety and misconceptions in the public eye.

Liam didn’t even hesitate as he opened the magazine and began reading the article. He read about cancelled concerts and public outbursts that dated back six months, around the time Liam had run away home. The article talked about Zayn leaving his former management due to dissatisfaction with how they handled his career and forced him misrepresent himself to the public.

The last few paragraphs talked about the new single, titled “wHo”.  _ “I wrote the chorus of the song in uni with a couple of mates to use for a helpline, but had never been able to finish it until recently. There was a man who I loved more than anything who suffered from a variety of things, someone I had promised to always be there for.”  _ The reporter went on to talk about the tears in Zayn’s eyes and the way he twisted his fingers, tapping them over the mandala tattooed to his hand.  _ “I broke that promise and lost him. The first time I called him and found out his line had been disconnected, I realized I’d broken something irreparably. I haven’t been the same since, but the song wrote itself after that. I just hope that one day he hears it and knows that my number hasn’t changed.” _

Liam stood and crossed to the counter where his mum kept her laptop. Opening it, he smiled at the family picture form when he was a child she used as he lock screen. Logging in with his birthday, he was surprised to see that her wallpaper was a picture of him and Zayn on the sofa when it was new. They were sitting side by side heads together and sticking out their tongues at the camera. He chuckled as he remembered his mum insisting on taking the picture.

He opened the music app, suspecting correctly that his mum had all of Zayn’s songs downloaded. He found the song the article mentioned and hit play, smiling through tears when he heard the familiar voice. He took in the lyrics of the song and felt himself starting to cry even harder, each word speaking to him directly. By the end of the song, he had to hit play again and set the song on repeat. 

He was listening to the song for the tenth time when his mum walked into the kitchen with a gasp. He looked at her eyes full of tears. “Mum, I have nightmares and I fucked up big time,” he sobbed out, collapsing into her arms when she rushed over to him.

She comforted him while he cried, shushing him and rubbing his back. “You didn’t, baby, you didn’t. Just call him. It’ll all be alright.”

It was dark outside when Liam finally stopped crying. He let his mother lead him up to his room. He stripped down to boxers and an undershirt while she went to make him some tea. When she returned, she helped him sit on the bed against the pillows and handed him the tea. Finally, she gave him his cell phone. “Do I need to get you the number?” Liam shook his head and she kissed him on the forehead before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Liam stared at the phone for a long time before glancing at his nightstand. Reaching over, he opened the drawer, he pulled out his old smartphone that he’d kept charged. Powering it up, he went through the steps to reactivate it and the disconnected number that the clerk at the phone store had given him when he’d deactivated it. He pulled up Zayn’s contact info, smiling at the photo he’d used before opening up the text messages he’d never deleted. 

He debated what he was going to send and finally settled on keeping it simple.  _ “I have nightmares.” _

He moved to set the phone aside expecting that he wouldn’t hear back for awhile, if at all, but he’d barely felt the stretch when it sounded. He glanced down to see it was a message from Zayn. He took a deep breath before opening it.

_ “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?” _

Liam smiled, imagining the look on Zayn’s face, wishing he could see it more clearly. He started to type a response, but changed his mind at the last minute, and hit the phone icon instead. It barely rang when it was answered.

“Y...y-eah, I really w...w-would like to talk about it,” he said.

“Leeyum.” Zayn’s voice was soft and the tears were evident as he choked the single word out. “I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

“No, I d...d-id,” Liam argued. “Can w...w-e just start over?”

“Do you want me to be Rodger or Zayn?”

“Zayn. Always Zayn. Always,” Liam told him, not even hiding how hard he was crying. He bit his lip when he heard voices in the background. “Y...y-ou’re busy.”

“Never too busy for you,” Zayn responded. “Hold on just a second, though.” It sounded like he covered the phone and his voice was muffled, but Liam made out the words ‘important’ and ‘we’ll do this later’. “Li?”

“Still here. I heard the song,” he told him. “Saw one of the interviews. D...d-id y...y-ou mean it?”

“Every word,” Zayn assured. Silence felt between them, but it was the comfortable silence from before and Liam put his hand over his chest as he felt it beating fast. “I solemnly swear.”

“G...g-ood. Can I see y...y-ou?” Liam asked, suddenly wanting to do this face to face.

“Are you still at your mum’s?”

“How d...d-id y...y-ou know?” Liam was surprised; if Zayn knew where he was, why hadn’t he tried calling him.

“My mum talks to yours nearly every day. I knew where you were the whole time, I just didn’t think you wanted to talk to me. I really hoped you would hear the song, but mum said you stopped listening to music altogether.” Zayn was still crying and some of his words were stumbled, making Liam smile.

“I d...d-id until I came across the article, but after I read it, I had to hear it. So I listened to it over and over. P...p-robably have it memorized at this p...p-oint,” Liam teased.

“I meant it. That jingle brought you to me and I prayed to Allah it would again and it did.” Liam laughed. “Don’t laugh,” he scolded, but he was laughing as well. “I can be at your mum’s tomorrow, if you want.”

“I w...w-ant. I really, really w...w-ant,” Liam told him.

“Okay, then I have to hang up to make arrangements, but you know you can call me anytime. Anytime you have a nightmare or you just want to talk or anything. I will answer,” Zayn assured.

“Right,” Liam said, not entirely convinced, but more than he had been when he first texted that day.

“Promise me. Liam, promise me when you need somebody, when you need someone, who you’re gonna call,” Zayn pleaded and Liam recognized the words.

“Who? You,” Liam assured, smiling as they said good night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for getting this far. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> 08/10/2018 - Thank you to everyone for their wonderful comments!!! Come on over and say 'hi' to me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/JolynnMG) or [tumblr](http://josjournal.tumblr.com).


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